THERE'S not much to do but listen when you are suddenly confined to a bed in a hospital room.
The sounds come up through the pillow, creep in round the door. No television, no phone, no books or magazines or company and no idea of what's happening outside the door, just lots of white ceiling to gaze at in varying textures. Nothing to do but try to match the inside sounds with reality and envy at the outdoor sounds.
It starts with the snap of a tourniquet and a "sharp scratch" from the doctor. Then the wheeze of the blood pressure cuff as it puffs out and hugs your arm. The scratch of a pen writing down your vitals, question after question (is there a history of cancer or heart disease in your family? Have you had MRSA? Have you ever had a hospital stay?) and the gentle rub of rubber soles walking away.
Then, waiting. And listening through the curtains to the other patients: a low moan, a groan, a cry. Crying. Drunken chatter at the nurses, a police officer questioning a stabbing victim, the quiet chatter of the nurses, more drunks and the beauty of a Glasgow A&E.
Finally, movement and a clacking of wheels under the hospital trolley, the click of an X-ray machine: "Breathe in ... and hold ... and out". More waiting. A wheelchair, an elevator ping, a recorded voice rhyming out the floors. A ward. More questions. "We can't have you in a ward with the other patients," and a move to another ward – more wheels, more talking elevator.
And then a single room, a door closing and the sounds from outside. It sounds like it's day now and it sounds like it's sunny: a lawnmower's gentle hum, park sounds, car engines, talking, bagpipes. Bagpipes?
Through the door, beeping. A telephone. The trundle of the medicine cart. A scrape of chairs on hard floor. The visiting bell. The antiseptic swish of a mop. Billy, whoever Billy is, will not sit down and sets off an alarm, repeatedly: "Sit down, Billy. Sit down. Please." The dinner trolley and dishes. Nil By Mouth; no dinner trolley or dishes here. The blood pressure cuff again, more questions, the mop is back, someone is laughing.
Finally, finally, the sound of the door opening and the best sound, a doctor: "Would you like to go home now?" Yes, please.
